


A Suitable Offer

by DaronwyK



Series: What if... HP Drabbles & Short Stories [33]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 04:02:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14417262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaronwyK/pseuds/DaronwyK
Summary: Muggleborn Hermione Granger graduated top of her class, but prejudice has closed many doors to her. Headmaster Black takes it upon himself to procure a suitable situation for her.Victorian AU





	A Suitable Offer

**Author's Note:**

> One-Shot for the moment. 
> 
> Victorian Era AU, set approximately in 1880. In this AU there was no Voldemort, and no war. Severus Snape never taught at Hogwarts, and Phineas Nigellus Black is the current Headmaster.

**o.o.O.o.o**

 

Phineas Black was admittedly not the most popular Headmaster that Hogwarts had ever seen, but he was efficient and had a deep sense of duty towards his students, even the muggleborns that proved themselves worthy of his time. He’d come to Hogsmeade today in search of one of his recent graduates that was in need of some assistance. He nodded to the people he passed in the street as he made his way towards the apothecary. Phineas spotted his former student manning the counter and he nodded politely to her as he approached.

 

“Headmaster, what brings you to Hogsmeade today?” The young witch smiled politely.

 

“I’m here in search of you, Miss Granger. I wanted to enquire after your plans to pursue a Potions Apprenticeship,” he said, keen grey eyes taking in the closed expression on her face with some disappointment.

 

“I’m afraid I haven’t had any replies to my applications, Headmaster. It seems that Professor Mornet was correct,” Hermione admitted quietly, dropping her eyes down to the worn wooden counter.

 

“Professor Mornet may occasionally be correct, but that does not mean he is right, Miss Granger,” the Headmaster said, pleased when her head came up. He withdrew a letter from his robes and passed it to her. “I suggest you read this letter and give serious consideration to the offer it contains. I can personally vouch for this wizard’s character and while your time under him will not be easy, he is one of the premier minds in the field, and he has never considered accepting an apprentice before.”

 

Hermione reached out, taking the letter carefully. “Headmaster, I don’t know what to say,” she said quietly.

 

“After you meet him, Miss Granger, you may not actually consider this a favour.” Phineas chuckled a bit. “You are one of the most academically successful students that I’ve had the pleasure to see come through Hogwarts, during my tenure as Headmaster and you deserve far better than manning a shop front.” He straightened himself a little. Besides, he had no intention on losing that bet with Phillip Mornet over Miss Granger’s fate; he’d bet a hundred galleons on her securing an apprenticeship by September and by Merlin he would make certain she did. “Good day, Miss Granger.”

 

“Good day, Headmaster Black,” Hermione said, trying very hard to contain herself. She tucked the letter into the inner pocket of her work robes, and knew that her fingers would be itching to read it until her shift finally ended. The fact that she was having to work in the apothecary purely as a clerk, not even allowed to touch the ingredients, infuriated her. She’d written nearly fifty-six letters to Potions Masters and Mistresses in Britain and on the Continent, but hadn’t received a single reply. A small part of her honestly wondered if any of them had even taken a moment to read her letter before throwing it in the bin. She hated indulging in that kind of negative thought, but it was impossible to avoid it entirely.

 

Many of her classmates had received unsolicited offers as early as January from prestigious Masters. What galled her to no end was that she was top of her classes, and just because she was muggleborn her accomplishments were somehow irrelevant. She’d spent seven years working harder than anyone else in her year, proving to all of her Professors that she was the very best at any task they set. Now, a few weeks after graduating as Head Girl with straight O’s on her seven NEWTS, she was working for a mere three sickles a week as a bloody shop clerk. It was humiliating and utterly demoralizing. Most nights she’d end up crying herself to sleep, worrying over her prospects. She didn’t want the Draco Malfoys and Pansy Parkinsons of the world to be right in that she was just a worthless mudblood, no better than a particularly clever krup. This letter was a chance to prove them all wrong.

 

The shop closed at 5 pm and Hermione was tasked with sweeping the storefront while Mr. Grieves finished off in the Potions lab. She tucked the broom away, then stretched her back a little.

 

“All done then, Miss Granger?” her employer asked, coming out of the potions lab and warding it shut tightly.

 

“Yes Sir, everything’s set for tomorrow,” she replied politely. While she might find the work tedious and well below her abilities, he had been kind enough to offer her employment when many others had sneered at her. More than one person had scoffed at Hermione, telling her that a witch’s place was in the home.

 

“Very well, off with you,” he said, the amused expression on his face softening the clipped words.

 

“Goodnight Sir.” Hermione left the shop, heading for the rooms she was renting over Scrivenshaft’s. Madame Caliway had offered her a spare room for a reasonable rate. She had some meager funds, and had been counting on securing a position as a potions apprentice to start providing for her future. All of her plans and carefully plotted charts had hinged on that one small thing. She opened the door and with a flick of her wand reapplied the wards behind her.

 

She took off her bonnet and unpinned the tight braids she used to control her wild hair. Letting out a sigh of relief, she sat at her writing desk and pulled out the letter the Headmaster had brought her. The parchment was heavy, and clearly from expensive stock. The seal was black wax, with two elegant S’s intertwined. It was not a seal she recognized, but she broke it and unfolded the letter. The page was filled with slanting, spiky script.

_Ms. H.J. Granger,_

_Attached please find a copy of an apprenticeship contract and a copy of my own accreditations. I am writing to you after reading a glowing letter of recommendation from your Headmaster. I find myself intrigued to meet the student that was able to so impress a man I know to be rather unimpressed with students as a whole. While I did not have the pleasure of attending Hogwarts under your illustrious Headmaster, his reputation certainly precedes him and I am certain that he would not have falsely extolled your virtues._

_I attained my Mastery in Potions at the age of 18 and am the youngest Potions Master in nearly three centuries. I have never taken an apprentice before, and have little patience for those that fail to use their brains and apply good sense to common situations. I am a member in good standing with the Society of British Potioneers, and consult regularly with both the Ministry of Magic and St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies. My primary focus, however, is in private research and I receive a great deal of private funding for the various projects I am currently undertaking. If you accept the position as my apprentice, I expect you to swear a wand oath to not reveal anything you might learn about my benefactors, research, or the experimental draughts I have in development. That point is non-negotiable._

_I advise you to carefully read the contract I have enclosed, and invite you to write to me with any questions you might have. I would also like to understand what inspired you to pursue a career in this field against the advice of your Professor, Philip Mornet._

_I look forward to your owl,_

_Master S. Snape_

_Nettle Croft_

_Norfolk_

 

Hermione’s initial impression of the man was that he seemed quite blunt, and not someone that would enjoy beating around the bush. There was something rather reassuring about his slightly brusque nature. She knew of Master Snape by reputation alone; indeed, anyone who had ever read a single Potions Periodical would have to be blind to miss the regular mentions of his clever innovations. The opportunity to study under someone that brilliant was unbelievably enticing, and there was likely little in his contract that would leave her unwilling to accept it. The offer itself was puzzling though: the man was a notorious recluse and it was well known that he never accepted apprentices. There were also whispers of him being embroiled in the Dark Arts, though Hermione honestly just attributed that to professional jealousy. How many rumors had she endured over the years at Hogwarts after all?

 

The contract itself was very straight forward, he would provide her room and board as well as a small stipend for clothing and supplies while she was his apprentice. The term of her contract would be either until she successfully passed her Mastery Exam or three years, whichever was shorter. He also reserved the right to offer her employment after her Mastery, before she could entertain any other offers, should he desire to retain her talents. There was the privacy oath he had mentioned, as well as outlining her basic duties as his apprentice. It was very simple and straightforward. It struck her as quite odd again. She’d seen some of her classmate’s contracts, and they’d been much more elaborate with dozens of clauses stuck in to give the Master a great deal of power over their apprentice, sometimes even for years after they’d achieved their Mastery.

 

She put the letter and contract down, starting to prepare herself a small dinner while she mentally decided what to write in return. It was times like this that she most missed her parents. Her father was a doctor, who’d agreed to relocate to Australia with her mother. It had been a great opportunity for her parents and she’d encouraged them to go. She wrote to them, but the distance was so great that letters were few and far between. When they’d left last summer, she’d been so confident that her grades would secure her a great position that she’d reassured them that she was perfectly fine, not wanting them to worry.

_Master Snape,_

_I cannot express how surprised I was when Headmaster Black delivered your letter to me. I am well aware of your many accreditations and honours in the field of Potion Making, and am quite humbled by the opportunity you’re extending to me. After reading over the contract you included, I can say that I have no questions, as it is quite clear and concise._

_As to your query about my choice of potions as a career, I think the appeal for me is that potion making is the ultimate puzzle for me. In most other disciplines the big questions have been mostly answered, but in Potions there is always something new. A new ingredient, a new application for an old ingredient, an exotic new disease that needs a treatment. I want to answer as many of those questions as I can, and learn to move beyond what I’ve learned in the classroom so I can apply it to the wider world. When I’m brewing I feel a kind of calm, as if for a short while the whole world falls away and there is nothing else._

_Professor Mornet may not have any faith in my abilities, but despite his best efforts, I have persevered and scored much higher than his favourites on my Potions NEWT. I spent many nights perfecting my skills on my own time, dedicating myself to achieving that benchmark. Perhaps I worked so hard out of a desire to prove him wrong, but in the end I needed to prove to myself that I could do it._

_I’m sure after reading this, you’ll think me some silly little girl, with my head in the clouds, but I assure you I take this extremely seriously. I am not afraid of hard work, and will apply myself faithfully to whatever tasks you set me._

_In return for my candor, I would like to know what convinced you to take me on as your apprentice. While you said the Headmaster’s recommendation was impressive, I can’t help but think that there must have been another reason. Please don’t think me impertinent, but I feel it is a valid question. I have signed the contract and will enclose it with this letter._

_I will await your owl,_

_Ms. Hermione Granger_

_Hogsmeade Village_

_Scotland_

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

Severus Snape walked down to the edge of the cliffs and sat himself down on a weathered old rock. After growing up in the slums of Manchester, his primary goal had been finding a way to purchase a place out in the countryside, where he could brew in peace and quiet, surrounded by clean air. The little cottage wasn’t much to look at, but it was his. He broke the red seal on the letter he’d received from Miss Granger, interested to read her words. Her handwriting was neat, without the excessive flourishes that so many women tended to use, and he found himself starting to create a mental picture of the witch in his mind. Plain but neat, likely with intelligent eyes and lips that would smile more than they would frown.

 

Reading her description of why she found potions so compelling, he felt his lips quirk into a tiny smile. He understood the allure of a puzzle as well, and the most complicated potions were the strange combination of puzzle and art. It took skill and intuition to brew something new, as well as daring and a certain disregard for the commonly accepted rules. Potions Masters walked a fine line, and the very best knew full well that one day an experiment of their might kill them.

 

While she didn’t state it outright, he could practically feel her contempt for Phillip Mornet dripping off the page and he knew enough of the man to guess why. Phillip was a pompous, arrogant fool and the fact that this girl saw through him only spoke to her good sense. Headmaster Black’s letter had been a surprise, but if the witch was even a fraction as talented as her NEWT results hinted she was, she would pass her Mastery exam with ease.

 

He closed his eyes and let the sea breeze wash over him. There was a peace to be found here, and inviting a stranger to live with him, for upwards of a year, was an uncomfortable prospect. He was intensely private and visitors to his sanctuary were rare. Even Lucius only came by from time to time to ensure that he hadn’t blown himself up, or at least that was what Severus told himself. His home was not large, and having a young woman staying there would require a fair bit of change in his somewhat static routine. He looked down to her signature on the contract and sighed; there was little to be done for it. He had extended the offer, and she had wisely accepted before he could get cold feet.

 

Severus stood and headed back to the cottage, going to the study and sitting down at the desk. He added his signature to the contract with a flourish and the document flared gold and duplicated itself. One copy would remain in his files, and the other would be hers. He pulled out a piece of parchment and smoothed his hand over it. Her question was a good one, and she had every right to ask it. She was putting herself under his power for what could be a very long time, and the young witch deserved at least a certain amount of candor from him. He dipped his quill into the inkwell and carefully scraped the excess ink off the nib before setting it to the parchment.

_Ms. Granger,_

_I do not consider the question impertinent in the least, and I will endeavor to answer it as fully as I can. Understand that I am not a man who is comfortable laying his private affairs out to the world as a whole, but in this I will own that you have a certain right to know my general motivations. Perhaps in time I will be more comfortable sharing the specifics, but for now please accept my words at face value._

_I find the fact that you, and many other young witches like you, are regularly passed up for further educational opportunities purely abhorrent. I may have many acquaintances that espouse pure-blood supremacy and rhetoric, but I give it little credence. I am myself a half-blood, and had to work very hard to overcome prejudice in my school years for being the son of a blood-traitor and a common muggle. You will find I have a great deal of understanding about the hardships and obstacles that you have fought to overcome, and as such can hazard a fair estimation of your character._

_In my youth, I knew a young witch of exceptional talent. Like you she was muggle-born and also like you, she faced limited opportunities once she left school. She ended up marrying soon after graduation, giving up on her dreams of pursuing a Charms Mastery. Tragically she died young, with all of her potential wasted, and her dreams left unrealized. Once I obtained my standing in the Society of Potioneers, I left word at Hogwarts that should another muggle-born witch or wizard showing potential in my field find themselves without prospects, that I would consider extending them the opportunity to apprentice with me. I did so in the memory of that unfortunate witch, and I assure you that I have no other darker motivations. I hope this helps you to understand why I wrote to you, and puts any suspicions you might have to rest._

_I have enclosed a copy of your apprenticeship contract, and I will expect you here no later than a week from today. My home is connected to the Floo network, and can be accessed by way of the address ‘Nettle Croft’. We can discuss particulars once you arrive._

_I look forward to working with you,_

_Master S. Snape_

_Nettle Croft_

_Norfolk_

 

Severus flicked his wand at the parchment to dry the ink and sat back in his chair. Even mentioning Lily in such a vague fashion was hard for him, and the memory of her loss still hurt even after all these years. He could only hope that his words had satisfied the young woman’s curiosity and would forestall any further enquiries on the matter. He would see about preparing a room for her, and resign himself to the disruption she was bound to bring into his life.

 

‘Oh Lily, the things I do for you,’ he thought quietly, black eyes drifting to a vase of yellow lilies by the window. Curse Potter to the depths of hell for taking her from him, and then squandering her so cruelly.

 

o.o.O.o.o

 

The reply from Master Snape had put most of her fears at ease. She’d given her notice at the Apothecary, and shared her good news with Madam Caliway. The older witch had given her a hug and wished her well. Her familiar was lying on the bed watching her pack her things carefully into her trunks. Occasionally the massive orange tom-cat would thump his tail, as if commenting on her folding skills. As she packed, her mind drifted to the wizard offering her the chance to fulfill her goals.

 

The tone in his letters told her nearly as much as the words themselves. It started out slightly tentative, and then his words about the witch from his youth seemed to flow out like water. Once he’d finished with his explanation, he had reverted to a cool almost professional tone. It was clear that he was indeed a deeply personal man, who had experienced loss in his life and would not be open to discussing it. She could accept that, especially considering what he was doing for her.

 

Hermione didn’t need to know every intimate secret of his life to understand the wizard, and she felt as though she had a fair grasp of him in her head. In her mind’s eye she could almost see him, frown lines marking his stern face, put there by years of worry and stress. She could imagine him having a somewhat dry, but wicked sense of humor that she might one day get to experience. She would have to earn that kind of liberty though, and she had a feeling that it would take time for him to grow accustomed to her presence.

 

Hermione shrunk her trunk, filled to the brim with her clothes, possessions, and her beloved books. She was heading off on an adventure, the first step to her dreams of being a Potions Mistress. Over time she hoped her understanding of Master Snape would deepen, and perhaps a little of his success and brilliance would rub off on her.

 


End file.
